Jasmine sighed heavily and pushed herself up from the floor. Her knee throbbed where it had slammed against the ground during her roll, and when she glanced at her BeepAir, another number caught her attention.
Mental Energy: 9200/10000
Jasmine stared at the number, her lips pressing into a thin line.
Five hundred points. Just like that. Wasted on someone’s childish tantrum.
Jasmine already hated how fragile this body felt. What irritated her more was losing that much mental energy over someone else’s pointless tantrum. She would gladly cripple herself for an important mission. Getting hurt because someone decided to throw a drink at her was another matter entirely.
She turned toward Tansy with a straight face.
"Does being rich mean you can waste expensive drinks like that?" Jasmine asked coldly. "Why were you trying to pour chocolate milk on me? Am I a plain cake that needs sauce? Or were you planning to eat me?"
Tansy scoffed and threw the empty cup onto the floor.
"Just one day of special treatment and you’ve already become arrogant." She stepped closer. "You threaten a B-Rank Guide? You broke the cafeteria rules just because you felt like it?"
Her eyes flicked toward Calla and the others before returning to Jasmine.
"You’re such a disgrace to the Trunken name. Selling food in the cafeteria? Hah." Her lip curled. "Are you selling yourself at the motel club too?"
She moved closer and jabbed a finger toward Jasmine’s chest.
"What? Following your mother’s footsteps? Flirting with men?"
Jasmine’s eyes dropped to the finger hovering inches from her chest.
Tansy’s mouth was tight with anger, but her eyes kept darting around the cafeteria, checking who was watching. Even now, she seemed more interested in making sure she had an audience than in whatever argument she was trying to win.
Jasmine had seen that type before—people who needed everyone else to be wrong so they could feel right. No matter what she did, they’d always find something to hold against her.
The finger came toward her again.
This time, Jasmine caught Tansy’s wrist.
Tansy gasped and tried to yank it back, but Jasmine stepped in and twisted her arm behind her back in one swift motion. She locked Tansy’s wrist against the small of her back, applying just enough pressure to keep her there.
Tansy cried out.
"Arrgh! Jasmine! What the hell are you doing?!"
"First," Jasmine said calmly, "the more you struggle, the more it hurts. Keep fighting me and you might actually break your arm."
Tansy froze.
Jasmine pulled her slightly closer, lowering her voice until only the two of them could hear.
"Second, I didn’t threaten your friend. I challenged her. She was the one who chickened out and suddenly went quiet."
Tansy sucked in a sharp breath.
"Third, I don’t owe you an explanation for my behavior. If I break a cafeteria rule, that’s between me and the people responsible for enforcing it. You don’t get to appoint yourself my supervisor."
Jasmine tightened her grip by a fraction.
"And lastly..." She leaned closer to Tansy’s ear. "You keep bringing up what happened at the motel club like you were there."
Tansy went still.
Jasmine’s voice remained calm.
"That’s strange. Because if you really saw what happened, you’d know the rumor that spread this morning wasn’t true." She paused. "So why do you keep bringing it up?"
Tansy’s breathing became uneven.
Jasmine’s eyes narrowed and continued, "I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the one behind that D-Rank Guard’s little stunt."
She pressed the joint a little harder.
Tansy screamed.
"But I’d better not find proof." Jasmine’s voice stayed almost conversational. "Because if I do, you won’t be using this hand for a while."
Jasmine released her wrist and gave her a firm shove between the shoulder blades.
Tansy stumbled forward and dropped onto her hands and knees in front of the cleaning lady she’d accidentally soaked with chocolate milk.
Jasmine dusted off her hands and walked over.
Then, she crouched beside Tansy and gave her shoulder a few light pats, earning another irritated wince.
"And Tansy, are you jealous because they’re treating me specially?" Jasmine asked and smiled faintly. "Well, you can always try becoming a murder suspect and see if you get the same treatment. I bet they’ll send you straight to Ravenrock Prison."
Jasmine tilted her head. "You and I are not the same."
She rose, leaving Tansy glaring at her with pure hatred.
Jasmine’s eyes met the cleaning lady’s. The woman looked frightened at first, then gave her a small, polite smile.
Jasmine blinked. She pressed her lips into a thin line before looking back at Tansy.
"You should apologize for the mess you made. The cleaning lady has to clean all of this because of you."
"Fuck you." Tansy glared up at her, still wincing. "I won’t let this slide. Oleander can’t protect you forever!"
Some of her friends had already gathered around her, helping her back onto her feet.
Jasmine frowned.
What did Oleander have to do with this?
Before she could ask, however, something else demanded her attention.
Where was that damn flying metal sphere?
Her gaze swept across the cafeteria.
There. Her eyes narrowed.
The metal sphere was hovering near the entrance, blinking repeatedly as though it had been enjoying the entire spectacle from the best seat in the house—just like everyone else.
The cafeteria had gone strangely quiet. Nobody seemed particularly shocked by the fight itself. Rank differences didn’t stop people from throwing punches in this place.
What had everyone staring was the fact that Jasmine could apparently fight at all.
She pointed at the sphere.
"You stay there!"
The sphere blinked.
"I won’t let you take my fried rice, you stealer!"
"Oh, that’s Rom!" someone from Calla’s group shouted. "You’re so lucky it bothered you!"
Jasmine gave them a bitter side-eye.
"Lucky?" She looked back at the sphere. "That thing will be lucky if it returns my fried rice in one piece."
She didn’t care who Rom was.
She cared about the last portion of fried rice dangling from its four tiny metal legs.
Fifteen credits. She could sell it.
More importantly, it was hers.
Jasmine could willingly give away her food to someone she chose. She could even cook for strangers if she thought they deserved it.
But stealing? Absolutely not. And this thing didn’t even have a mouth.
What was it planning to do with the food? Carry it around until the rice went cold, drop it somewhere, and let fifteen credits’ worth of perfectly good fried rice die an unnecessary death?
Unacceptable.
Jasmine marched toward it.
The sphere immediately floated backward.
Jasmine stopped.
So did the sphere.
She took another step.
It drifted backward again, maintaining the exact same distance.
Jasmine narrowed her eyes.
"Oh, you’re doing this on purpose."
The sphere blinked.
Jasmine took another step.
It retreated again.
A muscle twitched in her cheek.
Fine. Keep playing.
Her eyes narrowed at the metal ball.
The moment I catch you, I’m melting you down and turning you into a very durable spatula.